


Forfeit

by biggestbaddestwolf



Category: Glee
Genre: Depression, Fight Club - Freeform, Homophobia, M/M, Multi, One-Sided Kurtofsky, Slurs, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:52:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggestbaddestwolf/pseuds/biggestbaddestwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karofsky tries to deal with his feelings in fight club. He ends up dealing with Noah Puckerman along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forfeit

**Author's Note:**

> The style is very blatantly inspired by Fight Club. There's also a lot of direct referencing or quoting Wikipedia as well. The title is a Chevelle song.

  
The shoulder has three major joints.  
  
This is the sort of thing Dave Karofsky Wikis at night so he doesn't google gay porn.  
  
According to Wikipedia, the three joints all have names that Karofsky would only remember if he was studying for an anatomy test, but they're just out of reach on the tip of his tongue right now. He wants to recall them, stretch them out syllable by syllable, letter by letter, so he can pay attention to the shapes of the letters instead of the rotation of Noah Puckerman's shoulders.  
  
Puck rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, and Karofsky tries to remember the names of all the major muscle groups under the skin of the shoulders he's trying so hard not to stare at. Subclavius is one of them. Pectoralis minor is another. Deltoids have anterior, middle, and posterior fibers.  
  
This Fight Club stuff was all Puckerman's idea. The really fun and stupid ideas always are.  It was Puckerman that lifted the janitor's keys while Azimio mocked the guy. It was Puckerman who broke into the abandoned area of the school's basement. Karofsky and the others were all for it.  
  
No chicks. Just fists connected to wrists connected to forearms and biceps and then shoulders. Shoulders that Puck rolled smoothly after pulling off his t-shirt and tossing it over to the side.  
  
Karofsky cannot for the life of him remember what scapular protraction is, and it's killing him.  
  
It's Karofsky's first fight club since Kurt Hummel went to fairy wonderland, and it had taken him two weeks to actually make his way back. Azimio stood between Karofsky and Puck, asks if they're going to be cool.  
  
Puck glances over to Karofsky and shrugs. Scapular elevation, which moves the levator scapulaw and the upper fibers of the trapezius. The things Karofsky learns on the internet.  
  
Whatever, dude, Puck says, outside stuff stays out of fight club.  
  
It's a lie, but Puck and Karofsky fist bump, and Puck walks off to watch the first fight of the night.  
  
  
  
Without Kurt there, the school day has stretches and gaps that can't be filled by fart jokes and slushie-ing other students. There are moments that have no meaning, that feel not quite as sharp as they should.  
  
Karofsky deals with these moments by waiting for fight club nights. Living a week for a couple of hours of punches and slams.  
  
It's easy enough to space out in class; he'd been doing that the last few weeks before Kurt left anyway. He can't hear teachers when his head is filled with the way Kurt's soft sweaters feel when Karofsky body checks him with just a t-shirt on, instead of his varsity jacket. He can't hear hear teachers when he's thinking about which of his classmates he wants to punch in the gut, either.  
  
All of it works to distract. The clock ticks away on the wall and for every minute that passes, Karofsky has imagined himself going toe to toe with another student in the middle of fight club.  
  
That homeless kid's fingers under his heel. Sam Evans with a nice set of black eyes. The weird black kid that tried out for hockey last year.  
  
The fantasies spread to students not in his class. Finn Hudson with a bruised jaw. Azimio holding his own arm in pain. Kurt Hummel, his lips bruised and flushed with color-  
  
Karofsky grits his teeth and firmly imagines something else, anything else.  
  
Noah Puckerman's mouth bloody and split open, as he draws back his arm, the shoulders flexing as he readies himself to throw the next hit.  
  
Karofsky jumps at the sound of the period bell. His eyes search the room, making sure that no one could somehow see what he'd been thinking of. He waits until the rest of the students have left before moving.  
  
  
  
A second night of Wikipedia reminds Karofsky that scapular protraction is "the opposite of scapular retraction". The way the Karofsky understands it, these two motions are the particular movements that he notices while Puck is stretching. Karofsky can watch these two movements because Puck always fights shirtless. Karofsky doesn't know if it's ego or convenience, but Karofsky hates it.  
  
He hates it with every muscles and tendon that twitches in his body. He wants to tap Puckerman for a fight, but doesn't dare. Instead, it's Marcus Redding, one of the newer guys. Karofsky knows that it's the kids second fight.  He doesn't take it easy on the kid, and the kid doesn't take it easy on him either. Being gentle is reason to get shown the door on fight club nights. It's an insult, a taunt.  
  
Karofsky knows that the whole group is watching, whooping and fist pumping the way they do during every fight. When Marcus manages to knock Karofsky off his feet and the hard floor echoes when Karofsky collides with it, he sees Puckerman staring.  
  
Not the crowd. Just Puckerman.  
  
There's this narrowed eyed look of concentration on Puck's face, and Karofsky thinks that maybe Puck wishes the fight were between him and Karofsky, not Karofsky and stupid Marcus Redding.  
  
Karofsky wishes the same thing. He draws his knee up into Redding's stomach.  
  
Marcus Redding wins because Karofsky keeps making sure Puck's paying attention.  
  
  
  
No outside drama inside the club. That's the rule, but Karofsky and Puck both know they broke that rule the second Karofsky stepped back into the basement. No one else knows, or at least, no one else comments, but the two of them break it with every glare, every forcefully blank stare, every intentional glance away.  
  
It's like, even with that stupid Hummel kid at Dalton, he's still hovering there in the middle of them. Kurt's just as infuriatingly there as he was before. Karofsky's tripping over Kurt's invisible presence step by step.  
  
He needs to fix this, but it's Puckerman that makes the first move.  
  
A single tap on the shoulder. Karfosky looks; Puck nods towards the center, where Azimio is fighting some kid from the swim team. Puck's eyebrows arch. You always say yes when you get tapped for a fight, but Puck's giving Karofsky a way out.  
  
Karofsky wouldn't do the same for Puckerman. That's why Karofsky just nods, and ignore the granite hardness of Puck's expression. Even in those expressions, they're breaking the rules.   
  
Karofsky suddenly remembers that one of the joints in the shoulder is called the glenohumeral. It's the major one. Puck's back is to Karofsky, but he's already pulling off his wife-beater, and Karofsky wonders how many muscles are in the human back. How many of them flex and move fluidly while Puck raises his arms and lowers them again.  
  
It is a good thing that Puck doesn't turn around. Karofsky turns away. Azimio wins his fight.  
  
Karofsky and Puck step into the center of the room, their bare feet making echoing slapping noises. They both get the usual slaps on the shoulders and the Go Get Hims. Karofsky half-smiles at whoever slams their palm against his back. Puck's smirk and nods to his fellow fight clubbers don't meet his eyes.  
  
Because his eyes are glued to Karofsky's.  
  
  
  
Karofsky's usually very good with time, but when he's home, thinking about fight club, the actual fight and what happens afterward blurs.  
  
The average fight takes about five minutes. The average length of sex is seven minutes.  
  
Karofsky knows this because he googled it.  
  
In five minutes, a lot can happen. For the first few seconds, Karofsky can stare at Puckerman and circle him, can catalogue the curves of his shoulders to the shape of his biceps. He can spend seconds that feel like hours wondering why, if Puck tapped him, Puck hasn't thrown a punch yet.  
  
Seven minutes is a long time too. In the first minute, with both of them bruised and sore and being intimately aware of every muscle group, Puckerman can take the initiative, can slam Karofsky up against the wall while closing the door behind them. He can have the same look on his face as he did when they circled each other, and the look can mean the same thing.  
  
In five minutes, Karofsky can get fed up and lunge forward, because he's sick of this little dance they're doing. Especially since they're doing it over Kurt Hummel. He can go for a grapple instead of a punch, ready to knock Puck back on his ass. Puck can be ready for it, they can lock arms and begin to struggle.  
  
In seven minutes, Karofsky can tense and wonder how he knows what they're about to do. How they were going to do it from the moment that the fight started. He can know that this isn't about Karofsky for Puck, and it's not about Puck for Karofsky. They both know what it's about. Karofsky thinks he knows what it's about, and just like when they grappled, they end up locked together, lips pressed against lips like prolonged punches.  
  
In five minutes, it's easy for Puck to sweep out a leg and trip Karofsky. It's just as easy for Karofsky not to let go, to drag Puck down with him. They can twist, fall, with Karofsky over Puck and hauling back with a solid left. Then a right. Then another right.  
  
In seven minutes, Karofsky can end up with Puckerman's tongue in his mouth, and his hands struggling to undo Puck's jeans. Struggling because they're shaking. Shaking because Karofsky doesn't know what he's doing and his knuckles are still screwed up from the fight. Karofsky does his best not to wince when his bloody knuckles rub against the zipper. Puck's hand can make its way into Karofsky's sweatpants,   
  
In five minutes, Puck can lift up and headbutt Karofsky. Karofsky doesn't see the punch in the gut coming, and Puck uses that shock to roll Karofsky off him. Karofsky's head spins, his stomach clenches, and even though this is still breaking the rules, this feels better. The next hit, Puck's fist slamming against Karofsky's cheek and probably making his face look horribly distorted, that fist nearly obliterates Kurt Hummel from the air. Nearly.  
  
In seven minutes, Karofsky pretends to forget about the rest of Kurt that's hanging there. Can lose sight of all the warning bells that should be going off in his head, because Puckerman's hand is wrapped firmly around his cock, and Karofsky's got his hand on Puckerman's. Karofsky thinks he can taste copper, and he's not sure if it's from when he busted Puck's lip, or if it's his own.  
  
For five minutes, Karofsky and Puck can struggle to stop breaking the most important rule of this fight club. They can pretend behind fists and elbows and knees and kicks. For the last few minutes of the fight, they can play a game of pretend, dressed in sweat and salt and blood and adrenaline. Back and forth, push and pull, punch and hit. The fight should make it better. It shouldn't make it worse, but it does. There's still a little bit of Kurt there, and there's so much Puckerman and Karofsky that it's stifling. The five minutes can end in someone announcing a tie. Karofsky doesn't remember who.  
  
In seven minutes, Karofsky and Puckerman can fill the air with the smells of sex and sweat, with the sounds of grunts and groans. Their lips can stay pressed against one another for fear of speaking if they weren't. The tension can still keep on with every pump of a fist. Puck's tongue can curl as it licks blood from Karofsky's mouth. Karofsky's other hand can press against Puck's side, memorizing what the muscle groups feel like there, even if he doesn't know their names.  
  
Seven minutes can end in messy climaxes and jagged breaths. The same harsh granite stare from the fight.  
  
But it ends there. It doesn't hang on after Puck zips up, after Karofsky fixes his pants. It just is, as Karofsky wipes his mouth with his forearm. It's still fight club, even if this isn't fighting, and on average it lasts two minutes longer than a fight would. When Puckerman leaves, the moment doesn't hover and haunt.  
  
Kurt Hummel comes creeping back, inch by inch, second by second, and Karofsky thinks that seven minutes isn't nearly enough time to forget anything.  
  
  
  
Whatever happens outside of fight club stays outside of fight club, and the reverse should be true too. And, to a certain extent, it is.  
  
They porta-potty Puckerman. He deserves it, if only for giving Karofsky a heart attack when Karofsky, for a moment, is sure that Puck's going to tell the entire locker room what the two of them did. Puck doesn't, just threatens to kick Karofsky's ass as if they haven't physically fought multiple times since Kurt left. As if since those first twelve minutes (because the fight and the minutes afterward have blurred in Karofsky's head, melded together into some horrific erotic thing that keeps Karofsky staring at the ceiling when he's done with all those terrifying thoughts about Hummel) haven't been repeated at every fight club since.  
  
Puck gets the porta-potty treatment, Karofsky and Azimio mock him for it, and fight club night happens, and Puck still strolls in like he owns the place, jeans and a sweatshirt, his eyes searching the room as if he's considering fighting someone else besides Karofsky. Karofsky holds his breath.  
  
Puck fights twice that night, and Karofsky's pretty sure the first guy Puck taps is an intentional fuck you to Karofsky. Which is cool, because Azimio taps Karofsky to fight, so Karofsky's got two fights that night too.  
  
If you and Puckerman got beef, Azimio says, you two better figure it out. It's getting weird.  
  
Shut your fucking mouth, Karofsky tells him. It's not beef, that's stupid.  
  
Azimio is the only one that suggests that Puck and Karofsky might be breaking the rules. He only does it that once, and when Karofsky shuts him down, he drops it. Still, Karofsky feels like maybe they're being watched a little more closely. You don't teach McKinley hallway lessons in fight club, but maybe Azimio's thinking one's in order.  
  
Don't tap me for a fight next week, Karofsky says to Puck when Puck's getting ready to leave, and it's the first words they've spoken to each other in fight club since whatever they've been doing.  
  
Puck shrugs. Whatever, he says, your next fight'll suck shit, you know that right?  
  
Karofsky doesn't answer, but in his head, he says yes anyway.  
  
  
  
According to the Wikipedia page on the Fight Club movie, the director intended to keep the movie 'homoerotic', like the book. Karofsky has never read the book, and has only seen the movie twice. As he sits on the bench in the locker room, tying his sneaker and pretending not to be watching Puck talk to Sam Evans, he wonders if Puck has ever wiki-ed either the book or the movie.  
  
Karofsky very much doubts it.  
  
The guy who wrote the script for the movie called it a romantic comedy. Karofsky thinks Fight club is a romantic comedy like his life is a romantic comedy. It's a joke, a series of errors that pile up on each other in small rooms in the basement of the school.  
  
Where Puck is standing right now is where Karofsky kissed Kurt. Karofsky thinks that's a lot like a romantic comedy, at least like the ones that he's had to sit through when he's tried to have girlfriends. It's all sorts of darkly ironic, and Karofsky chuckles to himself, shaking his head. His sense of humor's been all sorts of messed up since the first time he ever thought about Kurt Hummel like that. It's gotten worse since kissing Kurt, since Kurt left, since punching Puck.  
  
Puck, who catches Karofsky looking his way. The casual grin that had been on his face drops. Karofsky's breaking rules again, looking at Puck outside of fight club, but they haven't fought in three weeks.  
  
Karofsky's choice, Karofsky's decision. Puck isn't breaking that rule.  
  
Karofsky finishes getting dressed and considers shoving Puck into the wall on his way out. He doesn't, because that's not about Puck's long-term foray into the lame with Glee, but it's about fight club. That, and Evans would probably get involved, and it's so completely not about Evans that Karofsky isn't sure what he'd do if Evans stepped into his personal business again.   
  
Instead, he just sneers and throws out some half thought out insult. Puckerman rolls his eyes; Evans takes a step towards Karofsky. Puck tells him to drop it.  
  
Karofsky leaves, shaking his head. Yeah, definitely some sort of comedy.  
  
  
  
No fighting means no...anything else, and that leaves Karofsky alone with his thoughts about Kurt Hummel. The thick tension hangs like a curtain without even the short breaks that fight club allows. Karofsky gets tapped to fight, but it's never Puck. Puck pretends that Karofsky doesn't exist at fight club, and has his own fights. Wins some. Loses some.  
  
The fights don't matter. After getting his nightly fight in, Puck leaves. Karofsky fights and stays until the end, because if he leaves, he can't ignore Kurt Hummel and all the other things he wants so badly to forget.  
  
It's harder to not think about sex when you're not having it, Karofsky thinks. Not that he and Puck have had sex, but they had a routine. And without that routine, Karofsky has to think about the routine, stare it in the face. He wonders if it counts as gay if it stays in fight club. He wonders if he better make sure Puck doesn't share it with any of his pals in fight club.  
  
He knows Puck isn't going to tell, but he still worries anyway. He worries a lot. And if he's thinking about Puck, he's not thinking about Kurt.  
  
Karofsky skips fight club one week. It doesn't matter whether he shows up or not, because all that happens at fight club nowadays is this: he gets tapped or he taps. He fights. He wins or he loses, or maybe even ties. Puck gets tapped or taps. He fights. He wins or he loses, or maybe even ties. They both work very hard not to look at each other. It works, for the most part. When it doesn't, one of them goes and fights someone else.  
  
He stays at home and is alone with his thoughts about Kurt Hummel. About kisses and leaving and hating and desperation.  
  
During dinner his father says that he's glad that Karofsky has found something constructive to fill his time nowadays. That Karofsky seems to be settling down again, since That Hummel Kid left McKinley. His father says that he doesn't know what Karofsky's doing, but he should keep it up.  
  
His grades could still use some improvement, his father says. Karofsky nods and promises to work on it. Karofsky cuts into the steak on his plate and fantasizes about bashing Puck's head into a wall. Imagines what could have happened if Kurt would have just relaxed against him, into that second kiss. Both thoughts feel close to the same.  
  
Karofsky cleans up after dinner, listens to his parents talk and wonders what kind of conversations Kurt Hummel has at the dinner table. Wonders if Puck even sits at the dinner table.  
  
He looks at the clock on the kitchen wall. Fight club is ending soon. His phone buzzes. He looks at the text message.  
  
U punked out.  
  
He knows who it's from, even without looking at the name attached to it. He doesn't respond. Deletes it.  
  
He taps Puck for a fight the next week.  
  
  
  
The Wikipedia page for Combat, which is what Karofsky gets when he does a search for Fight, makes Karofsky reconsider whether or not what he and Puck are doing qualifies as fighting.  
  
The first line says fighting "is purposeful violent conflict meant to establish dominance over the opposition." Karofsky doesn't think that's what this is. Maybe it was the first time, maybe those first five minutes was about one of them coming out on top. But they tied, and that was okay. That's still okay. There's still tension there, but it's not about winning.  
  
Karofsky doesn't care which one of them wins as long as there's still a fight. As long as there's still the slam of a fist in his face, and the impact of a knee into Puckerman's gut. He's almost positive that Puck feels the same way.  
  
If there's no attempt to "establish dominance," can Karofsky even hide safely behind the make-believe protection of fight club? He tells himself he can. Tries to convince himself that he does still care who wins.  
  
Someone tells him that the week he ditched was boring. That the fight between Karofsky and Puck when he came back was the best fight in weeks. Karofsky doesn't pay attention to who it is. He pays attention to Puck telling them they sound like an idiot. Karofsky snorts, and just motions to Puck to get ready to fight.  
  
He still watches Puck's shoulder as they ready themselves for a fight. Still thinks about the joints and muscles that make those movements fluid. He watches Puck's back whenever Puck fights someone else. Watches shoulder blade flex when Puck punches.  
  
Karofsky knows Puck knows he's watching. He knows this every night, but he's reminded tonight in particular.  
  
For some reason they fight each other first, before anyone else. That's not the way things are supposed to go. They are supposed to fight last, so they can go and do whatever else it is that they do. Instead, they go first, and Puck gets tapped by someone else before they can make themselves scarce without drawing attention.  
  
Karofsky glances over at Puck. Puck may shrug, or he may roll his shoulders. Scapular elevation. Karofsky's shoulders may drop, just a little. Scapular depression.  
  
Puck fights hard. He always does, but this is harder. Karofsky stares, and knows that his gaze drops heavy on Puck's back. He's sure of it as every hit Puck throws gets harder, faster, sloppier. Puck is getting hit too, but Karofsky doesn't care about that. He chooses not to pay attention to someone else's fists on Puckerman's skin.  
  
It's because Karofsky's watching that Puck ends up having to be pulled off the other guy. Karofsky knows this because it's the reason that he would have had to be pulled off. Puck wins, but it doesn't matter. There's none of the usual back pats and congratulations.  
  
Deal with your home boy Karofsky, Azimio grunts. Karofsky and Puckerman both are jolted out of their own thoughts by Azimio's words, because they don't know when anyone else at the fight club started thinking that either of them could deal with the other.  
  
This is bad, Karofsky thinks, but when Puck goes into another abandoned basement room, Karofsky still follows.  
  
  
  
It's not supposed to go outside of fight club. It's usually Karofsky that breaks this rule, but the next Saturday night, it's Puck that breaks that rule.  
  
Karofsky's father tells him that a friend from school is at the door. Karofsky doesn't expect Puck, but there he is, slouching into Karofsky's house, upstairs into Karofsky's bedroom. He doesn't speak, just stands as Karofsky closes the door. Locks it.  
  
Even if Kurt Hummel always hangs in the air for Karofsky, that's not what's between Puck and Karofsky right now.  
  
I picked up Fight Club, Karofsky says finally, the book not the movie.  
  
He shrugs, Puck shrugs, and Karofsky motions towards the bed for Puck to sit. Puck sits on the side of the mattress, the expression on his face a semi-frozen scowl. Karofsky doesn't ask why. He doesn't ask why about the expression, or Puck's appearance at his house. Karofsky doesn't know if he wants to know.  
  
The not questioning goes both ways. When Karofsky pulls Puck in for a rough kiss while, on the screen, Tyler Durden gives the Narrator a chemical kiss of lye, Puck doesn't ask questions. He does the opposite question, he kisses back just as hard and just as blindly.  
  
It's definitely gay if there's no fight beforehand. But Karofsky's not sure if they've fought at all in the past few weeks. It's all muddled up, and since Karofsky can make himself forget the confusion by letting Puck undo his jeans, he's not going to think about it. He's not going to think about anything.  
  
Puck's laying back against the mattress, the mattress that dips under the weight of Puck and Karofsky-over-Puck. Aside from a one-night thing with Brittany, no one else has made Karofsky's mattress dip. Karofsky does not bring people into his bedroom.  
  
Karofsky's hands do not shake when he undoes Puck's jeans. They do not scrape against Puck's zipper. There are no current bruises to worry about, but they still don't explore each other's bodies. They know the points of contact necessary. Hands go where they need to, lips stay locked together.  
  
Keeping quiet in order to make sure the rest of the fight club doesn't hear them means they know how to do this quietly. Low grunts and the occasional curse from Puck, mumbled  against Karofsky's mouth, are the only noises they make.  
  
They both come, Karofsky first and then Puck. Karofsky sits up on the bed and turns to look at the television. The mattress creaks and Karofsky knows that Puck is sitting up. On his bed.  
  
They go back to watching the movie without speaking. The Narrator talks about wanting to destroy something beautiful in a fight. He fights a bleached blond nobody that Karofsky figures is supposed to be beautiful. He's not sure he buys it.  
  
If you had to have a fight like that, Puck speaks suddenly, who would it be?  
  
Karofsky doesn't have to think, and shouldn't answer honestly but he does.  
  
Kurt, he says. What about you?  
  
There's a longer pause there. Karofsky thinks, at first, that it's because Karofsky made a mistake answering honestly. He wills himself not to turn and look at Puck's expression.  
  
The answer is unexpected, but Karofsky thinks it might explain a lot.  
  
Finn, Puck answers. Karofsky nods and watches the movie until the end.  
  
  
  
Karofsky has stopped spending so much time on Wikipedia since Puck came over.  
  
He still ends up on there when he's wondering what he and Puck look like when they end up doing their thing against a wall in the basement of McKinley. He still avoids googling gay porn, but now he does it by counting the days until fight club.  
  
It's easy to do, to measure time by how long it is until the next time he taps somebody for a fight. It's just as easy as it is to ignore the fact that every one in fight club seems to get that, every time they meet, Karofsky and Puck were going to fight. They were going to fight, and then, as far as they were concerned, the night was over. No one interferes with that.  
  
Azimio doesn't even comment on it anymore, just rolls his eyes and goes with it. Fights Karofsky sometimes. He wins some and he loses some. Fights Puck sometimes. Same thing. When congratulated for a win, Azimio is more proud of himself than Karofsky is nowadays. Karofsky can't explain it's because he's not fighting anymore.  
  
There's no battle for dominance in fight club, not for Karofsky. Not anymore. Kurt Hummel's gone and Puckerman doesn't care who wins either, so who's left to try to beat? Karofsky doesn't know if he's won anything, or lost anything, but it doesn't bother him anymore.  
  
Puck shows up at Karofsky's house randomly, without warning. He never stops by after fight club, never comes over with Karofsky after practice. Karofsky never goes to Puck's house. They don't talk to each other in school. What happens in fight club stays in fight club, even if fight club seems to have extended its reach into Karofsky's bedroom.  
  
At school Karofsky occasionally slushies Puckerman and his friends. It's all a part of the routine, even if it feels so false that Karofsky considers not doing it to Puck anymore.  But then that would be breaking the rules, he tells himself, and picks up a Grape Slushie on his way to school.  
  
From comments in the locker room, Karofsky knows that Glee thinks Puck still hates him. As far as Karofsky knows, Puck does still hate him. It doesn't matter, because nothing outside of fight club matters.  
  
There's fight club, and there's Kurt Hummel, and there's Karofsky. And fight club's Puckerman and Karofsky, and occasionally hitting something else and pretending it's beautiful.  
  
Karofsky can live with that.  
  
  
  
Things happen quickly in Karofsky's life. Too quickly.  
  
Kissing Kurt. Getting expelled. Coming back. Kurt leaving. Puckerman.  
  
And just as quickly and unexpectedly as it began, whatever it is with Puckerman ends. Karofsky knows the minute it ends, even if neither of them say anything. He knows the instant Puck strolls into fight club, because he's not alone.  
  
Gossip travels fast, and Karofsky knows Rachel and Finn are broken up again. It doesn't mean it's any less of a shock to watch Finn Hudson come down the stairs behind Puck.  
  
Karofsky pretends not to see. Turns away and starts talking to Azimio about anything. He thinks he talks about the upcoming game on Friday, although for all he knows, he might be talking about Donkey Kong. Just words and surface buddy talk, because he needs to distract himself.  
  
Puck doesn't come over, and neither does Finn. Of course they don't, because Finn doesn't know that Puck talks to Karofsky. Talked. Or didn't so much talk as jerk him off in abandoned basement rooms, and suddenly everything that they were doing sounds much more absurd when Karofsky thinks about it.  
  
Puck and Finn stay off to their side of the room during the first fight. Karofsky watches them, and he knows that Puck knows. Puck always knows when Karofsky is watching.  
  
Puckerman doesn't turn and return the look. He turns towards Finn and whispers something to him. Karofsky's fingers curl and dig into his  own palms. Suddenly he wants to win again, and it matters who he fights.  
  
He makes his way towards the two of them, ready to steal the moment that he knows Puck wants so badly, the ultimate screw you to end things properly. Karofsky lifts his hand.  
  
Puck glances at him. His face is blank, no surprise, no anger. Karofsky stops, freezes. Scowls.  
  
And makes sure to hit Puck hard with his shoulder as he moves past.  
  
Because Puck has what he needs, and Karofsky?  
  
Karofsky still has Kurt Hummel hanging in front of him.  
  
  
 **End**


End file.
